


until two and two is three

by angelsaves



Category: Bon Appétit Test Kitchen (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Ice Cream, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi, Podfic Welcome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24157375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/pseuds/angelsaves
Summary: Brad's always known that there are supernaturals working at the Bon Appétit test kitchen. Werewolves are quiet about who they are, but Brad's not a stupid guy, though, okay? He might not know how to pronounce things all the time, but he knows how to put two and two together and make four.In which Claire and Delany are werewolves, and Brad isn't, and eventually, they all kiss about it.
Relationships: Alex Delany/Brad Leone, Alex Delany/Brad Leone/Claire Saffitz
Comments: 20
Kudos: 55





	1. BRAD

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to several cheerleaders, especially mardia!

Brad's always known that there are supernaturals working at the Bon Appétit test kitchen. He's full human himself (probably, anyway, he's never bothered to get tested), but he's taken a few courses on basic wizardry, he knows a few things. Morocco, he's a vampire, obviously; he's had something like 300 years to refine the ol' palate. Gaby's a siren, but he's never heard her sing, and Rhoda is some kind of fae, he always mixes up the kinds.

Werewolves, though, they're a little quieter about who they are. Brad's not a stupid guy, though, okay? He might not know how to pronounce things all the time, but he knows how to put two and two together and make four. When he and Claire go to the fair in Denver, he notices her getting squirrelier and squirrelier as the sky darkens and the full moon rises.

"You need to get back to the hotel, eh?" he says, nudging her shoulder with his elbow.

"Yeah, I... yeah." Claire rubs her bare forearms, where the hairs are standing up, and looks up at the sky again.

"No problem." He nods at the crew, jerking a thumb towards the parking lot, and herds Claire away from the crowds.

In the car, she seems even less comfortable, the opposite of what Brad was going for, twitching and trying to hide it. "It's okay, Claire," he says soothingly. "We'll be back at the hotel in ten minutes, fifteen tops."

She looks over at him, brown eyes glinting gold. "I didn't want it to come out like this," she says, and there's a hint of a growl in her voice. "Brad, I'm —"

"A werewolf," he finishes with her, enjoying her surprise. "Claire, it's fine. Just tell me what I can do for you, and I'll do it."

"Just get me into my hotel room." She sounds a little calmer, less growly. "The staff know I'm a werewolf. They'll bring up meat around midnight."

"Won't you be lonely?" Brad asks. "Don't you usually have a pack to hang out with?"

"I mean, yeah, I do, but that's not — I can't make you —"

"Hey, hey." Brad taps on the steering wheel. "Claire. Let me keep you company, okay? I want to."

Claire lets out a noise that's sort of a laugh-sigh. "Okay, Brad. Thank you."

"Cool beans!"

A minute later, Claire shudders all over, and then there's a wolf sitting in the passenger seat. She woofs softly, and Brad reaches over to ruffle her white-streaked fur. "See, I'm not scared of you," Brad says. "I know it's still you in there, furball."

Claire sneezes on his hand, and he laughs, wiping it off on his jeans. "You don't like that nickname, huh?" She makes a grumpy sound, and he pets her again. "Okay, I'll stick to the usual, Half-Sour."

Brad pulls into the hotel parking lot and parks as close to the door as he can, then gets out and comes around to open Claire's door. She hops out, taking the handle of her purse in her teeth, then woofs up at him like he's cramping her style.

"After you," he says, gesturing towards the sliding doors. Claire trots on ahead, tail high, and Brad follows. "We're hanging out tonight," he tells the girl at the desk, who nods her antennae and jots it down.

The buttons for the elevator are a little high for Claire when she's wolf-shaped, so he pushes them for her, resisting the urge to tease her for still being short. Outside Claire's room, she lifts her purse towards him; he digs through it for her key, while she looks at him like she'd love to be rolling her eyes right about now.

Finally, he finds it, and lets them both into the room. Claire hops right up onto the bed; Brad stands there, not sure what he should do next, hands shoved in his pockets. She barks at him. "You want me to come over there?" he guesses.

She does a little play-pounce, which seems like a yes, so Brad joins her on the bed. He pets her again, scritching around her ears, and she makes a contented sort of whuffing sound and rests her chin on his knee. "That's right, get comfy," he says.

It's what he's been wanting, only sideways, like some trickster heard him thinking about how much he'd like to take Claire to bed and made it weird. It's not _bad_ , though. Getting to spend time with Claire is a win in the Leone playbook, even if she is all wolfy at the moment.

Around midnight, Brad wakes up from drowsing in front of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns he'd put on (for Claire's benefit, of course) to a knock on the door. "Room service!"

"Be right there!" he calls, dislodging Claire from his lap. The guy hands him a platter of raw red meat, a snack-size bag of dog biscuits, and a rope toy. "Thanks!"

"Have a good night!"

Claire woofs hopefully as Brad turns around. "Yeah, it's dinner time for good wolfies," he says, setting the platter down. She waits politely for him to sit back down on the bed before diving in. Brad remembers from school that werewolves need a lot of calories to cope with the change, so he's not surprised when she finishes in record time and sits back on her haunches, licking the juices from her chops.

"You eat pretty neatly, for a wolf," Brad says, giving her a pat as he sets the empty plate up on top of the dresser. "Now, what do you want to do?" In answer, Claire bites down on the rope toy that came with her dinner and waggles it at him playfully. "Oh, you want to play, huh?"

It's pretty much the same as playing with a big dog, which Brad happens to be awesome at. He tugs at the toy, pulls it free of her jaws, waves it around, tosses it, all that good stuff, and Claire seems like she's having the time of her life. Finally, after a good half hour of this, she yanks it away from him and curls up on it on the bed with a doggy sigh. 

"You're done, huh?" Brad opens the bag of treats and holds one out on the palm of his hand. She takes it delicately, crunches it, and then falls asleep. That seems like a great idea to Brad. He sprawls out next to her, gets comfy, and lets himself drift.

* * *

The morning sun streams in through the window, bright enough that Brad can't pretend he's still asleep, even for a couple more minutes. He rolls onto his side, and — oh boy. He's confronted with a rumpled and very human Claire, curled up fast asleep with her mouth half open. As he watches, she lets out a soft snore. _She even snores cute,_ he thinks, helplessly fond.

A moment later, Brad realizes that he's being maybe a little creepy, so he shifts his weight deliberately, yawning and stretching, then gets out of the bed and whistles while he flips through the binder on the nightstand for the room service menu.

"Mmf," Claire says. "Brad?"

"The one and only!" he says cheerfully.

"Thanks for staying with me." She sits up and rubs her eyes. "That was nice of you."

"It's no problem." Brad waves her protests away like flies. "Seriously, Claire. Any time."

* * *

Back on the East Coast, things don't exactly go back to normal. Brad thinks they're better, actually. A little bit of Claire's guard seems like it's dropped, like she's a little easier around him, now that he knows her secret.

It's almost exactly a month later when he overhears Claire half-whispering, "Just ask Brad, okay?" to Delany.

"Ask Brad what?" he asks, leaning down on the counter, bracketing Claire between himself and his nemesis.

"Nothing," Delany says, giving Claire a fierce look.

She ignores him, which Brad respects. "Brad, you know that _problem_ you helped me with, oh, about a _month_ ago?"

"Sure, I think I recall." He scratches his chin, putting it together. "Delany's got the same issue, huh?"

"Yes!" Claire beams at him. "So I thought, since you were so kind about _my_ problem, you might be willing to help Alex out, too."

" _Delany,_ " Brad says, in his best intense voice, and waits until Delany looks at him. "Yeah, I'll do it."

The surprise on Delany's face is totally worth whatever Brad's gotten himself into. "Really?"

"Why not?" Brad shrugs. "Your place or mine?"

"Mine," Delany says. "I'll text you the address. Uh. Thanks."

"No problem." Brad stands up and slaps him on the back. "It's tonight, right?"

"Yeah, I'm leaving early." Delany coughs into his elbow.

"Like, now?" Claire asks pointedly.

Delany looks like he's going to argue, but then he just sighs. "Yeah, like now."

"What a great idea!" Claire chirps. Once he's gone, she goes up on her toes and whispers in Brad's ear, "Kennel cough."

He bends down and whispers back, "I don't know what that is."

Claire blows her hair off her face and taps on her phone, pulling up a page from SPNwebMD and handing it over. Apparently, kennel cough is very contagious between pet dogs and werewolves, but won't get a full human sick.

"Oh," Brad says, skimming the medical blah-blah. "So he can't, you know... hang out with the, uh, the posse tonight?"

"The _posse_ ," Claire repeats, laughing. "Yeah, exactly, but you'll be fine."

"Well, good," Brad says. "This is my _temple_ , Claire." He thumps his chest for emphasis.

"You're a good guy, Brad."

_The kind you'd let take you out?_ he wants to ask, but he has a feeling, after this, that he'd be horning in on something. "Thanks, Claire."

* * *

Brad thinks about it some more on the Lyft ride to Delany's. It makes sense that Claire and Delany would be dating, he decides. Delany's a handsome guy, and Claire is obviously a beautiful lady. For a moment, Brad is struck by an image of the two of them together (Delany bending to kiss her, Claire on her toes to meet him, Delany's dark red hair between Claire's thighs) — and then he realizes that he's staring at nothing with his mouth hanging open.

He shuts it with a click. That's none of his business. He's going to wolf-sit Delany because Claire is a good friend, and Delany is too, nemesisism aside. ...nemesisitude? Nemesisitivity! Anyway, he can do this. He can even do it without thinking about their sex life, jeez Louise.

By the time Brad reaches Delany's apartment, it's getting dark. "Just in time," Delany says, pulling him inside. "Bathroom's through there, don't go in my bedroom, we'll just hang out in here, sound good?"

"Yeah, bud," Brad says. "You got food ready?"

"You can eat whatever —" Delany breaks off to cough.

"No, I meant for you." Brad waves at Delany's whole situation. "You know what they say, feed a fever, stuff a cough."

"They definitely don't say that," Delany says, but he leads Brad to the fridge and shows him a container of what looks like cooked, cut-up chicken.

"Chicken chunks for the soul!" Brad likes that people are all the same that way, even if sometimes they're wolves or whatever.

Delany looks like he's going to say something, but he shivers, coughs, and changes instead, and then there's a huge reddish wolf standing there, nosing at the Tupperware, then at Brad's hand.

"You hungry, bud?" Brad asks. "You want it heated up?" Delany paws at the container until Brad opens it and puts it on the floor, then sticks his face right in. "Guess not."

When Delany's done, he pads over to the couch. Unlike Claire, who'd gotten a burst of energy from her snack, he just looks kind of sad and droopy. He whines, makes the weird choking noise Brad learned to expect (dogs and dog-like people cough funny, it turns out), and whines again.

"You want snuggles, eh? I can do that." Brad settles himself next to Delany and runs his fingers through his fur. Delany squirms closer, without meeting Brad's eyes.

"Nah," Brad says, "none of that toxic manliness shit. You're sick, I'm good at petting wolves, so we're just gonna enjoy this, okay?"

Delany harrumphs, but he seems to relax a little into Brad's side. "There we go," Brad says. "Now, let's see what's in your Netflix queue."

* * *

It's a chill night, all in all. They watch some TV, and Delany falls asleep half in Brad's lap. Brad stays awake the whole time — not on purpose, exactly, but the little coughs Delany lets out every so often make him want to keep an eye on the guy. He knows the warning signs to look for, and it really does seem like just the wolfy equivalent of a cold — but still.

Brad gets to see Delany change back at sunrise, from snoozing wolf to snoozing man. He barely changes position, sprawled out with his head in Brad's lap, just sighs and nuzzles against Brad's jeans.

It's... it's nice. Brad keeps petting the back of Delany's head, even though it's maybe a little weird now that he's human-shaped again. It might wake Delany up if he stopped, though, so he better not. Delany's hair is softer than his fur, velvety where it's short, curly where it's longer. It feels good.

Brad lets his mind wander a little, to a world where maybe a gorgeous werewolf would end up in bed with him for a more fun reason than being lonely or sick. He's always kind of had thoughts about getting pushed around in a sexy way by somebody with that werewolf strength.

He's not going to think about any particular werewolves — that wouldn't be buddies — but if his thoughts go towards maybe a smaller lady werewolf and a bigger dude one... well. He's not going to tell anyone, so no one ever needs to know.


	2. ALEX

The first thing Alex notices when he wakes up is the scent of an attractive man, close and strong. He breathes it in deeply, thinking about how much he'd like to get his mouth on this guy's dick — and then he wakes up enough to realize that _this guy_ is _Brad Leone_ , and he startles so hard that he falls off the couch entirely.

"Shit," he mumbles, rubbing his temples. "Morning, Brad."

"Morning, sunshine!" God, of course Brad is chipper at — Alex checks his watch — at 6:15 in the morning. "Feeling any better?"

Alex hauls himself back up onto the couch, a safe distance from Brad — Brad, whose crush on Claire pours off of him in waves — and takes stock of things. "Yeah, actually," he says, a little surprised.

"It's the magic of friendship, bud!" Brad grins at him. "Now, whatcha got for breakfast around here?"

They go to the little deli around the corner from Alex's apartment, which is owned by a mated pair of older lesbians from his pack. "Morning, Pauline. Morning, Violet," he says.

"Good morning, honey!" Pauline says. "The usual, I assume? And for your young man?"

Alex splutters, but Brad just says, "I'll have what he's having," cool as a damn cucumber.

"Good choice," Violet says, smiling at them. Alex has brought a dozen people to this deli, most of whom he was actually dating at the time, and not one of them has gotten a smile from Violet. Not _one._ He's going to _die._

Brad, of course, is oblivious, just smiling back and joking, like it's totally normal for older women to assume he's dating his male coworkers. Maybe it is; Alex realizes with a jolt that he doesn't really know that much about Brad's private life.

"Stop scowling," Pauline tells him, passing his bagel sandwich and cold brew over the counter. "You'll get cranky wrinkles instead of happy ones."

Alex gives her a big smile, only partly fake, because Pauline is honestly great. "Thanks, Pauline," he says.

"Thank you, Violet!" Brad says at the same time, then, "Delany, this smells fantastic!"

God, Alex might be the werewolf of the two of them, but Brad is just a giant puppy. "Best in the city," he says.

They eat as they walk to the subway. The combination of pork roll and pastrami is extra good this morning, Alex thinks, washing a bite down with a swig of coffee.

"This is so good," Brad says. "What is this, a Taylor ham situation? And pastrami? Good stuff!"

"Pork roll," Alex corrects him, but for once, there's no heat in it. (He knows he's right, though.)

* * *

Alex decides he's going to play it cool at work. He'll leave Brad and Claire to their flirting and go bother Molly and Rick, and it'll all be fine. He won't have to deal with anything resembling _feelings._

Of course, that all crashes down when he and Brad reach the test kitchen and find Claire, uncharacteristically, already there. "Hey, guys!" She sets down her coffee and grabs their hands, pulling them over to her station. "How was last night?"

_Well, I almost embarrassed myself diving face-first into Brad's crotch, and I didn't even have the excuse of wolf form,_ Alex thinks. "Not bad," he says aloud.

"Yeah, not bad," Brad echoes. He's looking at Claire, and God, the want is coming off both of them almost palpably. He can't just smell it, he can practically _see_ it.

"I'm gonna," Alex says, and makes a break for it in as chill a way as he can manage.

"Alex —" Claire starts to say, but he pretends not to hear.

* * *

There's a pack meeting at the last quarter moon, a week later; it's the first time Claire manages to get him alone. "Why are you like this?" she asks him, rubbing her face on his shoulder in a friendly way, like they can do here. "Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"You've been avoiding me," Claire says.

"Have not." Alex tousles her hair a little. "I've just been, you know, busy."

"Busy avoiding me! Was hanging out with Brad during the change that bad?"

"No," Alex says honestly. "It wasn't bad. It was fine. He's good with wolves."

"I know, right? Those hands!" She's smiling now, and Alex can't tell which of them he's more jealous of.

"They are pretty great hands," he admits. He's had thoughts about those hands, and not all of them are about getting his scruff petted.

Claire glances up at him. "Are you —" She pauses, then finishes, "—going to get some snacks before we start?"

Alex suspects that was not the original end to that sentence. He also suspects that if he presses, things could get awkward in a hurry. "Yes," he says instead, "and yes, I'll grab you some too."

"Oh, thank you!"

He doesn't want to get in the way of the _thing_ Brad and Claire have, is the thing. He'd gladly take either (or both) of them to bed, if that was what they wanted — but, he thinks, putting together little stacks of crackers and cheese with a little more force than necessary, they want _each other_ and that's _fine._

Alex slides into his usual seat, next to Claire, and hands her one of the plates. "Thanks, Alex!" She pecks him on the cheek, and he can feel himself blushing — curse of the ginger — just as the lights blink on and off to signal the start of the meeting.

There's nothing particularly exciting to discuss, since things have been quiet lately. The meeting quickly devolves into plugs for various special interest groups within the pack, and Alex lets himself zone out a little. 

A few minutes into a pretty good daydream, though, someone pokes him in the back, and he jumps a mile. Craning his neck, he sees that it was Violet. "You ought to take your young man to that," she says, in the loudest whisper he's ever heard.

No chance Claire missed _that_ ; she whirls around and looks at him like he's just admitted to winning the Powerball. "Alex! You didn't tell me you were seeing someone!"

He opens his mouth to correct these horrible assumptions, but Violet beats him to the punch: "And so handsome, too! Broad shoulders like our Alex, and what a rear view! He brought him in after the moon last week."

Claire goes very still. "Brad," she says. "You're dating Brad?"

"I'm —" He can't disappoint Violet. He _can't._ "It's very new?"

"That's awesome!" She punches him in the arm. "And I thought you two hated each other!"

Alex doesn't know what to say to that. Claire smells like surprise and confusion and jealousy, and he doesn't blame her — but she also smells genuinely happy for him.

"So you'll bring him to the social?" Pauline says, leaning in to join the conversation. 

"What, uh — what social?" Alex asks weakly.

"The one for intercommunity relationships, weren't you listening?" Pauline doesn't wait for a response. "There's a group getting together for fancy ice cream, of people dating vampires and humans and whatnot."

"I do love fancy ice cream," Alex says, because he's lost control of his life and also, apparently, his mouth. "I'll ask Brad."

The meeting is breaking up all around them, so Alex takes the opportunity to pull out his phone and shoot a quick text to Brad: _Hey can I ask you a favor_

Faster than he expects, his phone buzzes with a reply: _sure thing bud!_

Fuck, now it's Alex's turn again. _It's kind of weird, but you'll get fancy ice cream out of it_

_ok! hope that means savory mmm_

Alex checks the email with the agenda for the meeting, which he had, as usual, completely ignored, and sees that the social is going to be catered by Ice & Vice. _Yeah_

_im in!_

_Don't say anything you'll regret,_ Alex types, clenching his teeth. _You know the deli ladies? They think we're dating. So does Claire. We'll have to pretend_

Three dots appear, disappear, and reappear. All of Alex's arm hairs are standing on end, like he's about to change, just from the stress of waiting.

"Everything okay?" Claire asks, putting a Diet Coke in his free hand. "You haven't moved since the meeting ended, and you're kind of —"

He's about to spill the beans, and then Brad finally hits send: _like i said im in_

Oh, boy. "I'm fine," Alex says. Is this relief or terror he's feeling? He genuinely can't tell. "Brad's coming to the social."

* * *

Alex honestly doesn't know what he was expecting, walking into work the next day, but it wasn't what he gets: a side-hug and a kiss on the cheek as Brad passes him between stations. It's as if they do this all the time.

"Morning, honey," Alex says over his shoulder, because he's not going to let Brad _win_.

Of course, the two of them being who they are, things escalate. Alex goes over to Brad's station while he's filming for It's Alive! and _leans_ , getting fully into Brad's space.

"Delany," Brad says softly. It feels like a caress, and Alex shivers.

"I'm so glad you guys are telling people now," Claire says from behind them, making them both jump. "What? It's just — nice to see you happy."

"Thanks, Claire," Brad says. He's still looking at Alex, though, and he smells sort of sad — wistful, maybe? It's almost like he wishes...

Alex shakes himself. Brad is obviously wishing he didn't have to lie to Claire, of all people. "I'm gonna go get some work done," he says, and goes to plant a kiss on Brad's cheek — but Brad turns and starts to say something at exactly the wrong moment, and their mouths meet.

Brad freezes; then his competitive streak must kick in, because he relaxes into the kiss and deepens it, just barely staying on this side of work-appropriate. Alex finds himself clutching at the back of Brad's flannel for dear life. 

They break apart, staring at each other, and then Alex says hoarsely, "Well, see you later," and bolts. He's been doing a lot of that lately, he's well aware, but Alex doesn't trust himself in such close proximity to Brad, not after a kiss like that.

Alex buckles down to work like a man running away from a disaster of his own making, and it actually works; he's checked off two-thirds of his to-do list by the time someone shakes his shoulder and he realizes he's starving.

"C'mon, babe, it's lunchtime," Brad says. "I thought we could, y'know — steal a little time together." His blue eyes are absolutely guileless.

"Sure," Alex says, adding a hasty, "honey." He grabs his lunch (last night's leftovers, a nice beef stew) and lets Brad lead him to a deserted conference room, out of the usual lanes of traffic.

"See, like a nice little picnic!" Brad spreads a tablecloth over the industrial carpet and arranges his sandwich and thermos of kombucha or yerba maté or whatever-the-fuck, sprawling comfortably next to it when he's done.

"Very, uh — romantic." Alex starts to set up opposite him, but Brad waves him closer.

"Gotta sell this, right?" Brad murmurs in his ear, hooking his chin on Alex's shoulder.

"Who's watching?" Alex asks reasonably, trying not to let himself sink into Brad's arms.

"The doors have ears," Brad tells him, and then he starts kissing his neck, which is dirty pool.

"That's not — oh, hell." _In for a penny,_ Alex thinks, and he turns around to give Brad a real, thorough kiss.

"Yeah," Brad says against his mouth, and Alex couldn't say exactly how, but they end up lying on the tablecloth, Brad's elbow in his sandwich, making out like horny college students, too desperate to care that they forgot to put a sock on the door. The scratch of Brad's stubble feels amazing, almost as good as his big, competent hands grabbing Alex's ass. 

Alex is straddling one of Brad's thighs, running his mouth along Brad's throat and thinking about where he'd like to bite — and then his "head back to work" alarm goes off, and he remembers they're _at_ work, and this is fake, and he's an idiot. "Uh," he says, getting unsteadily to his feet, "sorry, I got carried away."

"So did I," Brad says. He sits up, leaning back on his hands, looking — well, like someone's been kissing the utter fucking hell out of him: neck blotchy with beard burn, mouth bitten red, pupils dilated.

"I really made a mess of you." Alex says it as kindly as he can manage, what with his throat being full of shame.

"I returned the favor." Brad smiles up at him. "Eat some stew before you go, yeah?"

Oh, Alex is _fucked._

* * *

The social is that night, which on the one hand is good, because Alex can get this over with. On the other hand, he can still feel the phantom touch of Brad's mouth on his, and he has no idea how he's going to be _social_.

They've planned to head over right after work. Alex waits by the elevator for Brad, and almost swallows his fucking tongue when Brad shows up having changed into a polo shirt, his hat in his pocket. "You clean up pretty good, Leone," he says.

"Thanks." Is Brad blushing? "I thought, y'know, I should make a good impression on these people, if I could."

"They'll love you," Alex assures him.

Just outside the building the pack meets in, Brad stops, then tugs Alex into the alley.

"What —" 

"You look nervous," Brad says. "C'mon, let's get into character." He proceeds to shove Alex up against the wall and kiss him breathless.

"Better?" Alex asks when Brad pulls back to study him.

"Much." Brad gives him a sunshine grin. "Let's go eat some ice cream."

There's a fairly good cross-section of the pack here, people from Pauline and Violet's age down to the teenagers Alex still thinks of as cubs, and, of course, Brad charms them all. He gets his black garlic ice cream all over his mouth, making everyone laugh, and even though it's not a great combination with his own goat cheese sherbet, Alex lets himself be convinced to kiss it off to whistling and clapping.

"How long have you two been together?" asks a selkie woman named Cathleen, who's married to Rob, a forty-something guy from the pack.

"Hard to say," Brad says, smiling at Alex. "It was sort of a natural progression, you know?"

"You should do venison on your show," one of the cubs tells Brad — J, Alex thinks, who's there with their two young human dates.

"I've been wanting to!" Brad rubs his hands together. "You got ideas? Maybe you can do a cameo!"

J blushes furiously and mumbles something. Alex's heart hurts. He's lying to good people, he's making a good person lie —

"This guy seems great," Rob says, nudging Alex with his shoulder. "You should keep him around."

Alex smiles weakly, the sherbet roiling in his gut. "Thanks, Rob," he says, then grabs Brad's shoulder. "Honey, I need to get going, are you coming?"

"Yeah, of course, babe!" Brad pats J on the shoulder. "Good talking to you, bud!"

Alex ducks into the alley where they kissed, and Brad follows, looking heavy-lidded, like he's expecting more of the same — but Alex is done taking advantage of him like that. "We have to stop," he says.

"Stop," Brad repeats.

"Stop pretending," Alex clarifies.

Brad lights up, which tells Alex that he's doing something right, finally. "You mean —"

"Yeah," Alex says. "As far as anybody else knows, we're breaking up."

"Oh." Brad blows out a breath. "Is that what you want?"

_Of course it isn't._ "Yes," Alex says, because he's being noble, damn it.

"Okay," Brad says. "I'll, uh, see you around, Delany." He walks away, and Alex leans back against the wall, drained. He knows this was the right thing to do, but did it have to hurt like this?


	3. CLAIRE

It's a bright, sunny Tuesday morning, and Claire is going to be happy for her two favorite coworkers if it kills her. Sometimes, you have a crush, and sometimes, you have another crush, and sometimes, those crushes start dating each other instead of you. It happens! Brad and Delany make an adorable couple, she's a big enough person to admit that — both of them so tall and handsome... 

She stops on her way to work to get an iced coffee, as usual, and sips it through the straw as she walks. It's fine, it really is. She genuinely likes both of them, and she's known for ages that they were into each other; the whole nemesis thing was funny, but the way the mutual attraction swirled between them was — to a werewolf, at least — undeniable. Claire's wished some of it would swirl onto her, sure, but honestly, getting to see them happy? It's good. It really is.

Then she gets into the test kitchen, and the first thing she hears is Carla saying to Molly, "You know, I was kind of surprised when they admitted they were dating, but I was even more surprised to hear Alex was the one to break up with Brad." Claire almost chokes on her coffee. All this time psyching herself up, pushing down the jealousy, and they broke up? _Already?_

Claire finishes her coffee, then corners Delany in the walk-in. "What do you mean, you broke up with Brad?" She stares up at him, hunched awkwardly in front of the shelves of produce, looking almost as miserable as he smells.

"I had to," Delany says. "It was... bad. For me."

"He didn't hurt you?" Claire frowns. "I'll kill him if he did."

"No! No." Delany sighs. "He'd never. He's too decent a person, and I'm an asshole."

"You're not _that_ much of an asshole," Claire says, "and anyway, I thought that was part of..." She waves her hands in the air. "Your deal. Your spark."

She didn't think it was possible, but Delany looks even worse at that, like the time he fell in a pond in wolf form and all his fur got plastered flat. "It wasn't real."

Claire can't help it: she snorts. "Not _real?_ Pfft. So what was all that sexual tension in the air? Cured egg yolk fumes?"

"Claire," Delany says slowly, "that was for _you._ "

"Oh, please. I can see the way you two look at each other. I saw you _kiss_." Claire shoves her hands into the pockets of her apron. "I'm not an idiot, Alex, I know a couple when I smell one!"

"But you and Brad," Delany says. He looks bewildered. "You have a thing for him, and he has one for you — I'm not an idiot either."

"Wait," Claire says. She feels like that meme, the one of the woman trying to do math in her head. "So I could smell you and Brad wanting each other, and you smelled me and Brad wanting each other, and I — and you —" 

Delany's eyes get even bigger. "Are you saying —"

"I think we need to talk to Brad, is what I'm saying." Claire turns to march out of the walk-in, and opens the door to reveal the man himself.

"I was just..." Brad says, clearly floundering.

"How much did you over hear?" she asks him, backing up so he can join them and close the door behind himself.

"Just that you need to talk to me." He rubs the back of his neck, and the scent of arousal and nervousness wafts off of him, sweet to Claire's sensitive nose. "I just want you to know, I never meant to get between you. I care about you both, and I don't want to hurt either of you."

"Oh, good," Claire says cheerfully. She has a good feeling about this.

"I don't want to hurt you, either," Delany says. "That's why I wanted to stop making you lie." His brown eyes are huge and tragic.

"Delany." Brad's voice comes out somewhere between the way he usually growls Alex's name and the romantic way he'd said it yesterday. "I don't know how good an actor you think I am, but I wasn't pretending."

"You... but you want Claire," Delany says.

Brad sighs. "I know you know about, what's it called, polyarmory? We were talking to that kid J and their two partners last night, it's a whole thing."

"Polyamory," Claire can't help saying.

"That's what I said," Brad claims. "Anyway, I can want you both. Doesn't mean I'll get either of you, but I've got two hands."

He holds them out, palms up, and Claire takes one in one of hers. Delany hesitates, but when Claire steps on his foot, he takes the other.

Brad looks down in surprise. "Really?" he asks in a low voice.

Claire takes Delany's free hand in hers, completing the triangle. "I'm in if you guys are," she says.

"I —" Delany swallows audibly. "Yeah."

"Wow," Brad says.

Just then, the door swings open, with Andy behind it. His eyebrows arch, but all he says is, "Would one of you pass me a red bell pepper?"

"Sure," Delany says, grabbing one and turning about the same color. "Here you go."

"Sorry to get in the middle of... whatever this is." Andy winks at them and leaves. He doesn't seem sorry at all.

"We should stop monopolizing the walk-in and get back to work," Claire says, even though she would very much like to _not_ do that.

"Wait, though." Brad catches the side of her face in one gentle hand and gives her a sweet, brief kiss.

"Hey," Delany says, and kisses her too.

"This is great, but I'm leaving! Right now!" Claire doesn't look back as she exits the walk-in, even though she's pretty sure Brad and Delany are kissing, and (she feels comfortable admitting, now) that is _extremely_ hot.

* * *

Claire isn't sure how she does it, but she makes it through a full day of work without escaping to the restroom to relieve a little of this sexual tension on her own. It might be crass, but the ideas of what she and Brad and Alex could get up to, in all the potential configurations, are _much_ more interesting than... hell, she can't even remember what she did all day!

All she knows is, Delany and Brad are coming over with Thai take-out, and things are going to get spicier than the green curry she ordered. She'll have just enough time to give the place a quick sprucing up, maybe shove some laundry under the bed, and then... well.

It actually doesn't take Claire too long to get her apartment presentable, which is unfortunate, because it gives her time to get anxious. She pours drinks to have something to do with her hands, ginger beer with a squeeze of lime for all three of them; if the guys don't like ginger beer with their Thai, well, that's a _them_ problem.

What if this is a stupid idea? What if she fucks it all up? _Fuck._ Claire gulps half her ginger beer in one go, and it burns pleasantly all the way down, coiling warm through her core. She can do this. It's Brad and Delany. They're pack, Alex literally, Brad metaphorically — they're _hers_.

The buzzer goes off, and Claire presses the button to let the guys in. She assumes it's them, anyway; it could be an exceptionally polite axe murderer. Footsteps clomp up the stairs, and she peers through the peephole.

"Oh good," Claire greets them, "you're not axe murderers."

"Not recently," Brad says cheerfully, holding the bags aloft. "We got the food!"

"Awesome." Claire waves at the coffee table, which has the plates and serving spoons and drinks laid out on it. "Have a seat, guys."

She sits cross-legged on the floor, opposite the couch, so she can make use of the coffee table, and the guys join her there, with only a slight hiccup when Brad's knee collides with the corner. "Ow!"

"Want me to kiss it better?" Claire offers, mostly joking.

Brad meets her eyes, and the scent of his wanting her rises above the lemongrass and chili oil in the air. "Yeah, Half-Sour, go for it." He scoots a little closer so she can reach. Claire leans down, not breaking eye contact, and presses a kiss to his kneecap. Brad lets out a sigh. "Much better."

"Fuck," Delany says. "That had no right to be so sexy." He takes a long drink of his ginger beer.

"It's Claire," Brad says, like that's an answer, and Delany nods.

Claire blushes. "Eat your food," she tells them.

* * *

As Delany slurps his last noodle, Brad says, "I thought —" Then he snaps his mouth shut and shakes his head vigorously. "Nah, I don't want to talk about what I thought. I want to talk about what we think. Are we going to try this? The three of us?"

"I want to," Claire says.

Delany sets down his chopsticks. "Me too."

"Well, good!" Brad spreads his hands. "That settles it." He pauses. "So what do we do next?"

"Next," Delany says, "I really want to blow you, man. Is that cool?"

"Is that _cool_ ," Brad repeats, a grin spreading over his face. "Yeah, Delany, it's cool."

"I think we should move this party to the bedroom," Claire says, getting to her feet. "I want — I want a lot of things, but what I want first is a good view."

They crowd into Claire's bedroom, which isn't huge, especially compared to the guys she's bringing into it, but has a queen-size bed. While Alex backs Brad up against it, kissing him and fumbling at his fly, Claire climbs up onto the bed to get the bottle of her favorite lube out of the nightstand. 

Delany finally gets Brad's pants off and slides down to his knees. "Jesus, Delany," Brad says, petting his hair.

"He looks good down there," Claire says, feeling wicked, as she looks over Brad's shoulder.

"I know," Delany says. His eyes twinkle, and he sucks Brad's cock, wow, _all_ the way down.

_Count me down as impressed and horny,_ Claire thinks, squirming out of her jeans so she can get slick fingers on herself, pronto. If she arranges things right — oh, that's good — she can jerk off and watch the fellatio in progress at the same time.

It looks good, and from the noises Brad is making, it feels good, too. Seeing Delany's ginger mustache slide up and down the length of Brad's cock would be funny if it weren't so hot, his mouth revealing spit-shiny skin every time, flushed dark red.

Claire thumbs her clit and moans, and Brad twists to look at her, lips parted like she's something amazing. "What?" she asks, half laughing. "Did I distract you?" In answer, he leans in for a kiss, sloppy and wonderful, that breaks off into panting for breath.

"Alex, I think he's close," she informs Delany, who gives her a thumbs-up with the hand not — oh, wow — down his own pants. "Oh, I see he's not alone!"

"Nobody's — oh — ah, fuck —" Brad's whole gorgeous back arches as he comes down Delany's throat, and Claire can't decide where to look first: at Brad's blissed-out expression, at Delany's busy mouth or his frantic hands?

Delany swallows and takes a deep breath, looking up at her and Brad. He's still jerking himself off; Claire's about to offer some assistance when something passes between him and Brad, and Brad bends down to kiss him. Alex makes a sound like he's in pain and comes all over himself, and Brad pulls back, still stroking the side of his face. Fuck, it's like really good, emotionally and sexually satisfying porn, and it's happening in Claire's own personal bed.

She settles back against the pillows, figuring that the guys will want a nap before round two, so she can get at least one good orgasm in first. She's wrong: only a minute or so goes by before Delany crawls up onto the bed, stalking her like she's prey.

Claire laughs, knowing that as wolves, she could take Delany any day and twice on the full moon, but then he draws her thighs apart, and oh, that look goes _right_ through her.

"What are we going to do with you, Half-Sour?" Brad asks, looking down at her like _he's_ the wolf now.

"I have a plan," Delany says, voice wrecked.

The plan, it turns out, involves the two of them trading off fingering Claire, while Delany bites at her inner thighs, making them _so_ fucking sensitive, and Brad lavishes attention on her breasts. "Good plan," she manages to say at one point, and then she comes so hard she has to muffle her screams in Brad's neck. Her guys look very pleased with themselves when, two orgasms later, she finally taps out.

"The thing about fucking werewolves," Claire says, yawning, "is that we cuddle."

"That's the best part!" Brad says. He tucks himself up behind her; she's already got her nose buried in Alex's chest hair, and she can feel them holding hands at her waist. It's comfortable in a way she'd never dared to hope for.

"Good," Claire mumbles, and she falls asleep thinking about how many of their shirts she's going to steal.

**Author's Note:**

> title from "Baby, I'm Yours" by Barbara Lewis, which i discovered on delany's [Very Beautiful Songs](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6eteqMRGBX8COXgBuEMvcS?si=I-Vhn5n1Qea-Lh13AkPPbw) playlist
> 
> ice cream flavors from [ice & vice](https://www.iceandvice.com/pastflavors)


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